As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow (69)

We jump, landing heavily.

The moon shines down, a blessing, so we know where to sit without something poking us in the sides. Kenan sweeps the ground a bit with his shoe and sits down, leaning against a broken wall, his breath ragged. I could kick myself. I was so absorbed with my own problems I didn’t stop to think how he might be doing. Sweat pools on his forehead, and he rests his head against the stone, eyes closed.

“Hey,” I say tentatively. “Everything okay?”

He wipes a hand across his face and manages a smile that doesn’t look as bright as usual.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Don’t worry about it. Just catching my breath.”

I move over to him. “Can I have your phone?”

He nods, handing it over, and I open its light and shine it on his face.

“What?” he asks.

“Making sure you’re all right.”

He nods and stares straight into the light. His pupils constrict, assuring me there’s no cellular death taking place in his brain.

“Everything looks good,” I say after a few seconds. My gaze slides from his eyes to his lips and back again just as fast. He does the same, though he lingers far longer than I did, and my heart thunders in my ears.

Salama, I don’t ever want to—

I wonder how his sentence was going to end.

He shifts a bit, raising his hand, and it’s centimeters away from my cheek before it falls beside him.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” I whisper back, giving him the phone. I move to sit on his other side.

Kenan rests his head against the slab once again. I rub my neck and look up at the sky. If we weren’t in such a dire situation, this place would be beautiful. The blackness stretches out in front of us, with the moon casting his silvery glimmer, dimming the light of the stars nearby. It’s the same sky other people see in their countries. But while we watch it here, hiding, not knowing if our next breath is our last, others sleep safely in their beds, bidding the moon a peaceful good night.

Khawf emerges from the shadows.

He smiles. “Just here to watch.” He mimics a key locking his lips and leans against the wall. “Though the silence is boring.”

I take a deep breath and turn to Kenan. “I want to believe it’s worth it,” I say. “The revolution, I mean. But I’m scared.”

“I think it will be.” Kenan smiles softly. “Empires have collapsed throughout history. They rise, they build, and they fall. Nothing lasts forever. Not even our pain.”

“Now that’s a silver lining,” I whisper.

He looks away, and I see shyness in his features.

“So you’re still uploading videos to YouTube?”

“Yes.” He opens his phone; the harsh light illuminates half his face.

“I thought,” I begin, treading carefully. “Now that you’ve decided to leave, you’d play it a bit safer and maybe not record the protests anymore?”

Khawf grimaces. “Straight to the point, huh, Salama?”

Kenan sets his phone down and looks at me. “What?”

“I mean—”

“Salama, I’ve already made the decision to leave. Can’t I at least have something that’ll make me feel less guilty until then?”

“Not if it’s going to increase the chances of your arrest.”

“Why can’t you support me in this one thing?” he asks, exasperated.

“Because it’s not just about you. You’re dragging your siblings into this. You’re being selfish.”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” His voice grows colder by the second.

“Well, it’s a free country now, isn’t it, Kenan? I can say whatever the hell I like!” I snap.

He groans and his eyes flash with annoyance. “Why do you care? This is my life, my family, and my business, Salama. Why don’t you commend the fact I’m trying to make a difference, even if it’s a small one?”

I stare at him, shock trickling down my spine like icy water.

“Your life,” I repeat quietly. I want to strangle him. “Your life?”

I stand, my hands shivering. I ball them against my chest, and the shock melts into a fiery frustration. I’ve had enough of this. Everyone I love is either dead, being tortured, or on their way to one of these situations.

“Salama,” he begins warily.

I want to laugh. “Your. Life.”

I drag a hand down my face, walking in a circle, letting the words build up in my throat before turning toward him.

“How dare you?” I whisper, now shaking with anger. “Are you seriously going to sit there and pretend if anything happened to you it wouldn’t affect me?”

His lips part. “The military won’t trace my actions back to—”

I let out a short laugh. “You think that’s what I care about?”

He looks bewildered, frightened even.

“You can’t do this.” The words spill out of me like a broken dam, each one tripping over the other. “You can’t record the protests anymore because I swear to God, Kenan, if you get arrested—if you die, I will never forgive you!”

His eyes brim with tears. “Don’t say that.”